Page 89 of #Awestruck

A heavy, hollow emptiness began in my chest, spreading out like a dark stain until it filled every part of me. I was numb to the pain—for now. I knew it would destroy me later. “Did you really think you could get me to go on air and lie?”

“I don’t care if you do or not.” She gestured toward the cameras. “Either way, I already have a story to air.”

That would just be the icing on the cake. Having my personal heartache and trauma played out as entertainment across the country.

“I quit.”

It might have been too little too late, but I was done with Brenda and this network.

“Ha,” she said. “I predicted it weeks ago. That you’d be the girl who’d give up her career for some guy.”

“You don’t understand. Although I’m not surprised someone like you wouldn’t. I’m not choosing a guy or a relationship over this job. I’m choosing my integrity. I’m choosing me.” I’d been gambling with my integrity for months, letting Brenda and my anger chip away at it one piece at a time. It was time for that to stop.

I wouldn’t be this person any longer.

I pulled the microphone off my shirt and placed it on a nearby table.

“You should probably get professional help,” I said to her as I made my way out of the studio.

Part of me should have felt triumphant at finally standing up to my boss, but all I felt was an overwhelming, acute sense of loss.

No job, no prospects. Soon I’d be unable to afford to live on my own.

And no Evan.

That hurt worst of all.

I hid in my condo. I had nowhere else to go, nothing I had to do. I’d already paid my rent through the end of the year, so I had until January first before I had to move out. My bank account was getting close to empty, and it didn’t help that I occasionally ordered takeout. I didn’t want to go to the grocery store.

At some point I texted Aubrey to give her the full details of the breakup, thinking that if I could write down the words, maybe everything would stop hurting so much. It turned out not to be very helpful, as I cried for about three hours straight after I’d finished.

I’d had to call and ask my parents if I could move back home at the beginning of the new year. While I’d braced myself for scolding and gloating, they were beyond kind about it, and not a single “I told you so” left their lips.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Lots of people my age moved home again.

The one kindness the universe had given me was that Brenda had been unable to air the footage of Evan and me arguing. To my surprise, Rand emailed me to tell me about it, informing me that Brenda had been beyond furious because although Evan had an old release on file, I hadn’t signed the form, and I was in every shot. It rendered everything they had filmed unusable. He sent it to me as a jokey email, as if we were still work buddies who wanted to mock our boss together.

I didn’t know what he’d hoped to get out of it—maybe my reaction? But I blocked his email and felt some small relief that at least I’d been spared that public humiliation.

A couple of weeks after our breakup, around dinnertime, I heard a knock at my door. I actually had a sunshine-y moment of hope that Evan had come to see me. Realistically, I knew it wasn’t him, but I was desperate for things to be better.

When I answered the door, I saw that I’d been right. It was my mom, my sisters, and my niece.

“Ashton, seriously. You stink. When is the last time you showered?” Rory asked, averting her face when she walked in.

“I don’t know.” It had been a while. I couldn’t bring myself to care. What was the point of showering when there was no one around to appreciate it?

As they came inside, I went back to my nest on the couch. I’d made it up with blankets and pillows, and the seat cushion essentially had a permanent imprint of my butt. Aubrey began collecting the empty takeout containers on the coffee table, taking them into the kitchen and putting them in the trash.

My mom sat down on the couch next to me, and I felt a family therapy moment coming on.

“I know I’m depressed, Mom. But I’m sad. I’m allowed to be sad. I loved him, and I messed it all up.” My mom nodded knowingly, and I was sure that by this point Aubrey had broken our attorney-client privilege and shared the whole story with my family. In fact, I was sure of it, given the sympathetic looks they were all shooting in my direction.

It was also probably why my parents had been so low-key about letting me move back home.

“You did something he didn’t know how to handle,” my mother said. “Kids with dependable parents who are around feel taken care of and safe. To kids like Evan, who feel abandoned or abused or lose their parents in an accident, the world doesn’t feel safe at all. And in order to be safe, they have to be in control of everything.

“He thought he understood what the situation was between you, and you threw him a horrible curveball. I’m hoping that while he processes it, there’s someone in his life who will show him that forgiveness is what will heal him, not anger.”

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